I wrote you a poem yesterday. Superficially, it was a reasonably strong one..it was ok; but underneath, it was rather mediocre, and more about big dictionary-words and my BIG ego echoing – in Montezuma’s halls – so grandiose! than about unpacking some of the magnificent secrets hidden away in your sublime soul. I built myself a prison; and now I must escape! At ‘Lights-out!’ if I can sneak by the warden’s office, down the hall, and get past the searchlights and all the guards, –will you be waiting out there, for me, in the getaway-car, –a Pinto? just outside the billowy walls?? ready to speed us away from this huge mess I’ve created..Again! it just gets to be so much, so!! Sweet’ms, let’s us launch into the deep blue, starry unknown, and make a separate place for me and you..alone. There will be an instant peace we have seldom felt since the beginning, with meadows and pastures; and horsey’s running around, free, and obsolete..a dog; and kitties! and eternity on our hearts, our happy hearts, just being together, you and I..that’ll be home for us, now, why not? And for all the joy you have given me, lo! these many wonder-filled years, I say, Thanks..thanks a lot! ~Christopher
Once again, ‘Lovey’, it’s Valentine’s Day! and cliche, I know, to say, “You shot my heart wit’ chore arrow.” Imps, with wings, and bows and things abound; but what I found is you,YOU! have pierced me deep, yes, and to the quick! the marrow. Time takes a toll from when we were on a roll..in the bathtub, out for a sunset stroll; but vows, “I do!” remember..when we stood on a grassy knoll; in the park (you recall) and pledged our love forever..together, solemnly we said them before God, and our friends, “..until death do us part.” To the end! in sickness and in health, Darling! and all the rest; and you have been faithful in these..while all I done was make art (or something, like). Times..times when I have thought, “I’m a goner!” you gave me pure water; and when I lost all sense of myself you pulled me down off the shelf and dusted me with a feather..plucked from your angel wing. Yes, you,YOU! you make me sing. When I am restless, you open the door, and let me out to soar up,UP! the high heaven; ’til after, a little while later in dying moonlight I tire, and crash-land, again! in your arms..out here on the farm, oo-oozing low-level emissions of contaminants radiating slight voltages, and such..cruel physics! cruel elements! cruel world, “Auf wiedersehen!” Just kidding, please, no..no, no, please! do not be sad; and please, O! please..Please, please,PLEASE! forgive!! only forgive this wretched doggerel (of mine), for I’m but a lowly poet. But I am your poet, dearest, yours! your one, and only, faithful..mon-gr-el, “Grr-rr!” Christopher Valentines, TWO-1, 2023..Twenty-twenty-four? we’ll see..God willing, we’ll see. ~c. (c.c.,P-s: Don’t ever let the fire get cold, Comrade! and no colluding! no colluding around, see?) ~c.
Dear..I-love-you, –I love you! Yours truly, I. ‘Love’ U. P-s: I love you
~c.
We are high in Indian country, birch bark, us! We, –‘Floating-on-shimmering-river-in-flickery-moth-light-under-full-moon-piercing-shadows-through-tall-thickets’ (that’s us). MEANWHILE BACK ON THE BANKS: “In’juns!” chortles ‘Sniveling-bureaucrat-dummy-official-flashlight-shining’ out of darkest gloom, “..gettum!!” as lead flies, Pop! Pop! po’-Pop! buzzing, bullets all around the neighborhood and suddenly! we vanish, never be seen again. Ghost hippies! make ‘um powerful medicine for time travel Volkswagen art-bus, dive ‘um into olden days of summer pop-music festival, wear ‘um love-beads, flash ‘um peace-signs, smell ‘um patchouli oil..eat ‘um tunafish&hashish-cheese sandwich with chips, blur, \FREE LOVE, END WAR! DON’T EAT THE BROWN PEANUT-BUTTER&JELLY..(Fish!) Pair of leather-fringe shirt sleeves, blue! ‘Wave-um-at-gravy’ waving at everything!! off-stage high off mud frantic front of heavily amplified instruments playing in nice musical group, make ‘um like, folk rock’n’roll! scrunch ‘um up, notes at faraway hills sea of faces wash by rain, mix ‘um, TIME! in blacklight blender make mish-mosh psychedelic doorway perceptions, peradventure, coursing in earth’s one mud vein..save in bottle (if-could-if-only); then! strobe-light flashing blades falling, sodden giant dragonfly pack’d full with CIA eyes blank, peeping through polyethylene portals talking to ‘Wolf-who-leads-sheep’ on tele-phone, rocking rhythmically back and forth in skies over mass hallucinations (help ‘um birth tunes)..radio rattles ultimatum: YOU! YOU KIDS ARE ORDERED TO DISPERSE NOW! THIS AN UNLAWFUL ASSEMBLY! YOU ARE TRESPASSING IN VIOLATION OF LOCAL, STATE, AND FEDERAL STATUTES! (AND OTHERS) I AM PLACING YOU UNDER ARREST!! helmeted squads of police – state, local, federal – materialize, press in for the kill! mockingbirds, goons with lei’s on necks back from Hawaii vacation’s, lobbing tear-gas canisters at crowds of child-lawbreakers, ‘kid’ state enemies wanted by f.b.i., –Hoover’s friends with noxious irritants stinging noses co-mingling marijuana-smog as bulls break up ‘riot’, –chicks! screaming flowers on fresh cheeks sporting golden hair head-bands, sun! eclipses all under swift night-sticks’ blackouts..a dull thud in the park, “CRACK!” starry eyes rolling around inside heaven’s sockets..blonde bleeding semi-conscious body spasms piled on with all the rest into sullen paddy-wagon, doors close, snap shut and lock, Vr-r-room, off!! ending afternoon’s cheap entertainment, PEACE, –5 1/2 bucks! Show’s over, it’s all a dream; except the part about the bureaucrats, they didn’t go anywhere (yet). They’re still working for us from behind their D.C. desk; and us? We are high overlooking Indian River City, Kemosabe, AVAILABLE NOW! senior living at its finest. Hi-ho, Silver, –USA! Away!! hear ‘um, thundering hoofbeats. Goodnight Tonto, now turn ‘um off TV, “Here’s Johnny!” God. Help..us.
~c.
My delight! it is to write..about you!! because just when I think, “I’ve nothing left..” a memory! come floating through. So! here it is, the missing link..there we were high upon the world’s rim, in your German automobile, Opel I believe (imported by your BUICK dealer) sitting on the mountain listening to the car-radio; and they were playing a love song, from way back in the hippie era, another hit by those dam English! (Moody Blues..and a real tear-jerker). And it told of a fine feeling, the immortal love a man can have for a woman, and she for him; and that it is possible to share. And there, side by side we sat, in that orange car of yours, looking down below us, at ages upon ages of southern Californian civilization..such as it is (in San Bernardino County); and it was all for us, we just hadda grab hold. So we did; and the rest is history, our history, –a mystery! known only to us..and God (and a little of it by the county code enforcement). Thank you dearest I love you you’re so wonderful truly I want to have your children (wherever they are). –christopher..P-s: Don’t ever change, Happy Valentine’s Day! ~c.
Time for a poem. This’ll be an epic one for sure, the poem to end all poems..a poet’s Waterloo! gotta muster the troop’s, A-Z, on the typewriter-keys. Will our side win? we see’s! maybe it’s another..make a big mess; just like ‘all the rest’ (cetera). Should I..wait for inspiration?? or strike now! Science does not wait, i t makes its budget proposals and away we go! to the moon. Earth’s moon? no! not good enough it has to cost more so they gotta go find a moon somebody/nobody knew about, look at it..a minute, and yell (in the ‘news’), “HEY, LOOKY! NEW MOON..DUDE!!” Trust science, –NO! TRUST POETS (dude). Poets are different from scientists in that we don’t want your money just your time..all of it! and as much ink as we can lay waste to, by the 55 gal. drum, pounding away at our tin soldiers, –SYMBOL’s, a through z, “Klak, ka-Klak..Klikety-Klak!” hurting innocent, white, blankety-blank blank pages, abused, wadded-up on the floor..wrong place and the wrong poet wasting time..everybody’s! a battleground, sore, of stuff the chinese invented; bloody hands rolling them up into the typewriter-roller-carriage-thing-ee..collateral damages, dogs’s of schwarz, –z-z-z: “Here I sit, broken-hearted, –“; yeah! A through Z, er, um, a-2-z, TWO-ZEE’S, THREE-ZEE’S (i HEART apostrophe’s); plus draft some of them other characters, too, at the, at the sroke of a key! (sic) @#$%^&*()_, plus “+”, etc., –issue ’em uni-form’s, there! you’re in, in the poet-army now! now we’re onna roll, to the front, young poet, you go! total poetry, Russian front, Russian font!! When you gotta go, ya gotta go..Eh? shmo?? OY! So..fight my poem agaisnt your poem? I’ll fight your poem standin’ on one foot, fight it with twenny assonance’s tied behind my back; and we’ll see, see whose poem’s better, badder..wroser, –See See Writer, bad to Frost! Jack, Robert..find a meter I double-dare ya; maybe, together, we can start World War Three? Hey! look at all da snow..gee! nothing ventured, nothing goofed-up, right? global warming?? paper holocaust’s. 8.5×11″‘s, all gone to heaven. 0uttasight..g’night! Z-z-z-z-zzzz. Z-z-z-z-z-z-z (et cetera*)
~c.
*That’s Latin, you know, –Ope’s! open that can o’ worms. It’s all Greek’s..’n’ Sikh’s, see? Hyde and sikhs, your Sikhism’s showing. I give up. Unconditionally!! Peace (brother).
In the case of medical doctors, after they’ve taken your money, done a bad job, and told you a story to cover their malpractice, at least they gave you drugs (except Vet’s); with car mechanics there’s no upside. ACTUALLY. One thing I can say, though..your average car-fixer’s work is an inspiration for those of us who never thought of working on our own cars to get interested in it, quick! and then at least when you screw it up, you can charge yourself however much you think is fair; and give yourself whatever kind of story makes you feel better. That’s called experience..are you experienced? O! have you ever been experienced?? Wey-ell, –I ha-a-ave..all over my mo-tor! the purple haze. And if you don’t dig the psychedelic music, there’s always ‘Hank’: Your chinese parts..will tell on you!
~c.
HOPE AND (SPARE) CHANGE
P-s: Tell zem Zsa-Zsa zent you, darling!
“PAWrR-RI-TIC’s? RUH-ROH!” BRING BACK ‘MAJOR’, MAJOR’S GAFFES WERE MINOR, or: DOGS OF HISTORY! MAKE DOGS GREAT AGAIN, PART II, YEAR FOF THE DOG..the White House! the White House a wreck, it’s in total disarray, everyday it only gets worser. Their first lady’s a dead ringer for Keith Richards in a blonde wig minus the ‘Strat’, Mister ‘resident can’t swing a nine-iron to save a life; and cooks in the kitchen, there, daily preparing corn flakes for the regular meal, “That’s all they’re asking for! he’s the president so what I’m s’posed to do about it!!” Where’s the jelly-bean diplomacy? what happened to “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!” It’s gone to the dogs,TO THE DOGS! we need ‘Major’ back! Badly! what were some minor lacerations on arms and legs of a few Secret Service..compared with this! Okay, I guess Dee-Cee don’t do re-runs, gotta keep things moving along, fresh and lively, there; so next, for the sake of some NWO-prescribed subterfuge..any morning now, GOOD MORNING AMERICA! they’ll have’em over, the white house will, all the ‘friendlies’ from among the journalistic folk and their ilk to run their story on the Bidens’ blessed event, a new puppy! to divert away from damage control, don’t worry what breed it don’t matter. Can’t be a Irish Setter, though, Ford already did that one with his pooch ‘Liberty’ having a whole litter of little liberty’s running around the White House doing minute poo-poo’s all over the carpets – liberally – to deflect away from pardoning Nixon and his dogs, one of whom, according to some ‘leaks’ that got leaked (per the NYT’s), barked the seminal command to bomb Cambodia; and also wasn’t it, probably I think, a dog of Ford’s who was on the grassy knoll that fell November day? Alibi heard, was, “..had to take a leak” (and that was the dog’s name, too! ‘Alibi’). And yet another of Dick Nixon’s dogs, a ‘golden’ Golden Retriever I believe it might have been, spoke the marching orders to send Kissinger to Paris for the peace negotiations, so-called, –Richard Milhouse Nixon: “Goldie, now come on now, nice doggy..Speak!” “Rr-rend Rhen-ry!” And so it went; but that trip (Linda Tripp) was a dog..in terms of our foreign policy; we got the hell out of Dodge, left all the stuff there, and never did get our MIA’s and other covenanted concessions through, as signed and agreed to by Zhou “Joe” Enlai and the chi-com’s, –Bad dogs! So anyway, before it all came to the screeching, grinding end of everything with that, and the plumbers, and Watergate, and Liddy; and all of the rest, all the Nixon dogs..and Dick and Pat and Julie and everybody – David Eisenhower, also – were seen around the White House special Christmas tree for a special photo-op that Christmas; and the president..RMN, himself feeling very special, was kissing dogs while U.S. bombs were getting rained down over meek and diminutive asian peasants that just wanted to stay safe and peaceful in their black p-j’s in a neighboring country that was not part of their conflict (“They’re all bad dogs, no training ’em!” ~Nixon); and it can’t be whatever kind of breed Obamma’s had for cover, to cover-up all the news-reports of relatives from Kenya, here in The Republic..everywhere running amok (it was Labra-doodle’s, paper-trained on liberal scab-sheets..like the New York Times! shilling for thee Obammas!! and they’re s’posed to be such smart dogs, Oy!), –no, it’ll have to be something different, a mutt, a mongrel! a mix-breed of indeterminate origin, yeah, that’ll do it, it’ll work..I wonder, what kind of dog Loretta Fuddy might have had with her on that ill-fated airplane, circling around..Hawaii! like ‘Peppermint Patty’ when she got Ron-brown’d out (whatever). So the president’s dragging it, the pokey little puppy, reluctantly out behind him on the leach, sliding it up with him – helped by his assistants – across such finely polished floors! of the white-house main room to microphones spread out in front of the podium, capital work! accomplished by top security clearance janitors from El Salvador, and Honduras (and recently a few fortunate Guantanamo releasee’s) and makes the announcement (Joe does), –Joe: “Uh, morning,Good morning everybody, good to see you all here, uh,JOE! LOOK AT NOTES WHILE YOU SPEAK LIKE YOU ARE READING THEM (Jill cutting in hissing her words, –“Joe! Don’t SAY the parts that’s all-CAP’s.”) Oh. Right, let’s see now..I uh, I have a few New Years’ resolutions I’d, ah, like to mention. Things are going to be different around here, now. No more drifty, rambling, goofy, ga-ga gaff-up’s in front of the cameras going out to all our enemigo’s around the globe, uh, globalists no more improperly sniffing hair on heads of ladies and children; and heads of state..no more Corn Pop’s for breakfast, just steak&eggs only!” and Jill’s standing bravely beside him, standing by her man throughout it all no matter what, expecting a cue to jump in any minute to keep things going, –Snap-krackly-pop! and on track with the new dog introductions. What can go wrong? after two years of this slimy sloppy train-wreck in Washington, what can astonish?? We shall see. “So, ladies and gentlemen,” Joe’s saying, “..we have an announcement we’re gonna be making, shortly, um! sharing with you all our happiness on this historic moment in our nation’s developments; and I’m sure Ka-mala, our Commanderess’s-in-Chief, would’ve liked to’ve been here to share it with us as well but she couldn’t she’s out on an important diplomatic overseas mission that is very top-sec-rety and nobody can know what she is doing over there with the mullah’s and general’s and other dignitaries high up in command over everything because it might queer-up the whole deal to open the trade agreement for nu-que-ler weapons to Iran, that’s uhh, it’s strickly private! generally speaking, eh..” Jill: “Uh, Joe..” “..thats gonna be in exchange for releasing the rest of the freedom fighters that have been separated from their families all these years and highly improperly I might add and not even spending Christmas ever since Operation Desert Iraqi Storm, fum-fum-fum..Freedom!” Jill:”JOE! LOOK AT THE SCREENS!!” “..and the enhanced surfboarding techniques and all of the rest of it there at our illegal detention facility in violation of the Geneva Conference Act at Guantenemo Bay run with CIA and other bad actors we inherited from Bush, uh, bushes administration..uhh, Blackwater; and a terrible economy! REPEAT TERRIBLE, terrible (Jill shakes head), it’s terrible, folks. And it’s bushes fault we inherited all that crap and a disaster of a, a pronoun deficit in our military that we got ah, when we, me and Barrack and the team were elected in ’08 and we had to rescue the company, uhh, country and all the rest..there’s, uh, –” Jill: “Um, Joe..the dog?” “Ohh, oh yeah I have an important announcement we’re very excited and pleased to announce our new baby here in the white house..” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! “..it’s a dog. Thank you, thank you all very much, I’m sure you all want to share our joy at this very special and happy moment and now let me introduce to everyone our new puppy, this, it’s ah, pitbull dog mix and was a rescue dog they got us that was going to be destroyed for no good reason and he will help us with our deep-state, uh! uhh, what am I saying, our deep grief, help, our sadness deep sadness about losing ‘Major’ our German shepherd, yes our beloved dog Major who was a very good dog, he just had a few problems around here, right, Jill? some minor problems Major had but he’s in dog heaven now, all dogs go to heaven when they go to sleep I believe, with a needle with all my heart, I believe, and there’s no bad dogs, just bad terrorists of the extreme-right destroying our country..’SAY ‘COUNTRY’ WITH SOLEMN EMPHASIS’ (Jill slaps her forehead). But I am not going to go into that and January 6 and the insurrection, –We will never forget! all of that that almost destroyed our democratic institutions of democracy and equalities and our diverse protections for diverse, renewable energy’s and uh, sus-sus-sustainable agencies on the front lines defending us against the global warming and measles and chicken-pox and helping everybody with paying their taxes, their fair share and all of that, no! dam it, we’re..” “Joe the dog.” “Oh yeah, sorry. So here I am we are happy to announce our new Dog we hope we know you will all love him we sure will his name is ‘Lieutenant’ we named him Lieutenant after a very special person that helped us get here where we are today and he’s a good boy, –doesn’t somebody have a mask for the Lieutenant..so he doesn’t get sick from the doggy-flu? and have to go take a lab-leak..and then take him to the vet and, and and anyway, –so Lieutenant, we just got him and he has already learned a trick, say Hi to all the nice reporters, Lieutenant..well speak, boy! Lieutenant..speak,SPEAK!!” Lieutenant: “Rats KERNEL-Roo-ten-ant to roo! rr-rat face rying Rozo!!” Jill: “Bad dog!!”
Lt.-Colonel Michelle and her charge d’-‘affaires (L), plus an attache..the Obamma Bunch.
White House Press Corps: “So what else is new..Joe? Can we ask the dog something, can we talk to the dog?” “Yes. Lieutenant will take ONE question now.” Acosta: “So, uh, –Colonel-Lieutenant..” “Rr-res?” “What’s your take on the gruesome mass-murders that just happened in Anytown, USA? Do you know for sure who did it? can you tell us any thing?” “Oh, rats reasy! Heer-roh-rhee Creenton rubbem out! Rrr-rext..” Barbara Walters: “Ohh! oh, Wootenant! Koono-Wootenant, –Caw’ me!!” Colonel-Lieutenant: “Res, Rah-rah?” Biden: “Alright, folks, that’s it, I said one question, President Lieutenant’s not taking any more questions now, the show’s over, please file out safe and orderly..Thank you, thank you very much.”
~c.
..leaf. I am Leaf! carried by soft breezes in your arms, your hands – sticky with apricot jam, and intestinal outpourings – to distances between, ecstasy! and that Heraklean peak of everyday dreams..Pinnacle! a ‘stable’ job, Oy! see De Soto behind ‘Wheel’ in an open convertible, driving me now to relate for you the contents of this (wonderful) poem: O! fountain of youth..where! oh where didst thou go? things are not now as once they were, things! can never be what they shall be, ahh! try as I will, to swill a frozen fruit cocktail and camarones – sprinkled with licorice strips and seeds of dill – through my rubber duck’s bill, “Ducky! Ducky!” well, still, I must yet press on with the proposition that all emotions are created..equal! ======EQUAL’s!! with all the body lotions and mints and stuff, bathing in morning sun’s winter glow arranged on Bathroom’s sill, window-sill, frosty..still! sill, –counter, sill,SILL!! wot? Silly me! you see? It is not a poet’s job to decide if the poem sucked eggs or not; duck eggs, even! but what if, when..when all fall down then, then what, –WHAT?? so what if the poetry turned out, to be..not-so-bad after all? And what if, –unaccountably! someone’s heart, a person’s heart, actually! warmed to it; and the poet’s entrenched intentions, as well, on that sparse occasion, to cause waves of pleasure, rolling in over jellyfish heartstrings, washed up there..Leaf: “There, there..” (spoken here for added emphasis), string-bone connected to the heart-bone somewhere between thee armpit’s bone, on wistful shores of yesterday’s cable-car ride; with Kitty to What if..what if, too? “IF!!” “Meow.” Well so what if if you, with your sun-tan oil and towel in hand, stepped on that leaf! sucking himself along without so much as A. Leafblower’s help, skipping gaily down half-buried Boardwalk’s shattered remains by A. City..on the beach on winds parallel with fuzzy ‘Beachcomber’ (we looked at earlier); and ‘Dog’ along on a leash for the wok, too; and Leaf he went KRACKLE! beneath your soul,SOUL! souls of your feet’s, what? then what?? “Bow-wow-wow.” Well! now you’ve gone and done it, Sugar..this poem is over, it’s done (“He’s through..”), –Bye. Bye, bye, birdie, “Tweet-tweet!” “You..are..sweet.”
~c.
P-s: Psst! hey, you..what are you doing later? What’s that..Oh, leaf you alone?? Okay bye.
Scruffy's..Blurgh! 